Queen of the World for Today
by arguingthepixie
Summary: Tenna is taken from her home at 17 and brought to Icecrown to serve the Lich King. But nothing turns out the way she expected and she doesn't know if that's for the best...  **story involves rape and 2 very troubled characters. don't like? don't read.**
1. Chapter 1

I was barely 17 when death knights invaded my town in droves. So many undead like the denizens of hell rode from over the rise and down the hill path that led to the bridge and our cluttered street. I watched from the window, the second story vantage giving me the full brunt of the horror approaching.

I had grown up in Stormwind, but the constant noise of the busy throng of people had been too much for me. I wanted something calmer, I had told my parents and after much negotiating and begging on my part, they had conceded to let me travel to Redridge Mountains where I had known kin. Lakeshire was only supposed to be a stopping point on my way to my uncle's farm to the south. But I had fallen into step here, taking a room in the inn and a job cleaning. It wasn't exciting work, but it kept me housed and independent, and that was all it took for me to pen a letter to my uncle, informing him of my change of plans. I had finally found a home of my own.

And now it was being taken away from me.

I heard frantic footfalls on the stairs and then the boards behind me and I spun around to see Cardra bracing herself on the doorframe after her rush up the stairs. Her black hair was falling loose from the pins that held it, an echo of the fear, wild in her dark eyes.

"Death Knights!" she heaved, pointing out the obvious in that way chaos dictates.

Trying to push down the freezing grip of fear that had wrapped to my heart at the sight of the first rider, I hurried to Cardra, grabbing on to her arm as she held on to me and we made our way to the top of the stairs. The room below was nothing but noise. The bodies fervently moving from door to windows to hide beneath tables were like the shouts that accompanied them - sharp and harried and shrill to the senses.

"What do we do?" I asked Cardra, the two of us still frozen at the top of the stairs.

she shook her head, almost imperceptably and I decided to take matters into my own hands. I grabbed her arm and dragged her with me as I ran to the small attack door neatly hidden in the ceiling. I jumped, reaching for the latch, constantly checking over my shoulder for any signs of immediate danger. We were up the rope ladder and the trap door pulled into place when we heard the first shrieks from downstairs.

I ushered Cardra into an empty trunk at the back of the attic, where the eaves slanted towards the floor. It was tucked behind a stack of old chairs and I threw a tarp over it just for good measure. I felt protective of Cardra. Sure she was all of 23 but her sheltered life in Lakeshire didn't allow for her to handle the threat of danger well. And she had been like an older sister to me the past year I had spent at the inn, since I arrived, a wide eyed 16 year old.

I looked around frantically, already knowing it was too late. Our movements in the attic would have certainly been heard downstairs, even amidst the shouts and cries. All I was waiting for was for the trap door to be found, and that wouldnt take long at all. I could already hear a scratching at the wooden boards and knew I had precious seconds to spare. I lunged for a large wardrobe against the wall and closed the doors tight behind me, already well aware that I would be found. My only hope now was that Cardra's hiding spot would be overlooked.

They thundered into the small cramped space like an army though there were only three of them. I could hear the sound of them reverberating through the wood and the smell of rotted flesh and rotted soul seeped through the cracks in the wardrobe as it pervaded the entire attic.

My eyes were as wide as they would stretch. I was afraid that if I closed them for even an instance I would somehow jinx my safety. If only my eyes stayed open I would be safe. That of course couldnt be farther from the truth. I wouldnt be safe no matter what I did. I could practically feel it sinking into my gut as one of the death knights touched the wardrobe's handle and felt my brow furrow in fear and anguish as the door swung open to the leering faces beyond.

I didn't make a sound when they found me, mostly too afraid to speak, but also fearing that any noise from me would lead Cardra to leap from the trunk at a stubborn attempted rescue. I was hauled down to the first floor and out to the street in front of the inn like a sack of flour, tossed around over one of the death knight's shoulder. Then I was thrown unceremoniously to the ground, to sit amongst the other captured dwellers of Lakeshire. We huddled together if not holding eachother outright, much to the amusement of the death knights.

One stood apart from the rest, hand resting jauntily on the hilt of his sword, dull black hair tied back in a tight queue at his neck. He was walking down the sea of people, pointing and pointing and pointing, sorting them into different groups.

"For the farms," he said jabbing a finger at one young man.

"For the army," as he stared at another.

"Slave," which seemed to be a popular one, over and over again.

I noticed with horror that the death knights seemed to have free choice over the slaves for their own enjoyment in addition to whatever their usual tasks would be. One particularly loathsome beast of a man reached down and grabbed a handful of firey red hair, pulling a young girl's face close to his, as she tried to wriggle free from his grip. I turned away, unable to watch more and kept my eyes glued firmly to the ground in front of me.

Until the word "slave" rang in my own ear, and i was hoisted from the ground by the back of my collar. A grubby looking man, who may have once been attractive - though i would hardly believe it - grinned down at me as his hand held me dangling above the ground. I felt as though I would be sick and it must have shown on my face because he laughed at me then, shifting to grasp me round the waist and throw me atop his armored shoulder.

I somehow managed to sleep most of the journey to Northrend, woken now and then by the jostle of an uneven road as I lay prostrate across a large horses neck in front of the saddle. The mainland was the last thing I saw before slipping into sleep again, not to wake until we reached the gates of our new home. I thought that last word bitterly, knowing both my homes were now gone to me.

Gahrfas, the death knight whom had 'claimed' me, led me by a lead around my wrists through the halls of a cold stone castle. The chill seeped through, making me shiver and realize how little my thin linen summer dress was doing for me now. There were twelve of us, mostly men but three women apart from me, and death knights led us, lined on either side of our procession. The black haired death knight from Lakeshire walked directly in front of me, demanding an air of respect from his fellows in his gait.

I flinched at the sound of a whip. One of the death knights was entertaining himself at the expense of the twelve slaves being led down the corridor. Seeing my reflexive movement he turned on me. A giddy laugh escaped his lips and then I felt the sting of leather against my skin, the slice of metal drawing blood the snap as it rebounded back into the air. I inhaled sharply, hissing as the lash came down again against my skin.

Gahrfas turned around and scowled at the death knight, whom only laughed some more with glee.

"That's enough!" my captor growled and yanked hard on my bound wrists as he continued forward.

We didn't make it very far before a dark figure stopped our march. He must have been 6'6" and seemed a giant to my 5'4". He didnt just tower, he cast a shadow over the corridor, his shoulders blocking out the light, his massive armor like oily shadows in the gloom. We came to a stop not far from him, and I chanced a glance up out of sheer necessity and tried to shrink myself into the shadows at once.

The legends had it that Arthas Menethil had been charming and handsome, the golden son of the king of Lordaeron before he had been corrupted and fused to become the Lich King he was today. But those were nothing more than legends, I knew that now. Had there ever been charm and gentleness in that face it was long gone. Evil surrounded him like an aura, his blue eyes glowing with it behind the straggly white hair that fell in his face.

"Nice haul" spoke his gravelly voice, and just hearing it made me cringe. I kept my eyes on my feet, knowing that had I looked into his face I would have visibly convulsed in disgust.

I stole a glance anyway, like a bystander unable to look away from a gruesome death.

He was eyeing us, the "haul" he had commented on, considering. I didnt want to know just what he was considering but i found out soon enough.

"I've an empty room in my slave quarter. Send a good one over."

and then he turned, quickly spinning away to pound down the hall.

"I've a right one for you milord" Gahrfas quickly piped up, readily looking for the favor it could grant him with his king. I didn't know, but it didnt seem to do him any good. He received nothing more than a grunt as his king shifted his massive shoulders and continued on.

"oh i've a right one for you milord," came a snide voice once the king was well out of hearing range. it seemed Gahrfas was a newly enlisted death knight, and a young man before that to boot, making him an easy target of teasing and merciless ribbing from the other death knights. He was still looking for acceptance and commendation from his superiors in a way that seemed both childish and almost endearing - if he hadnt been trying to pass me around in the process.

We broke from the group, turning down a near corridor and i was led by my wrists through a maze like array of hallways and staircases until we reached our destination on the far side of the castle.

Gahrfas opened the door and ushered me inside, leaving it open as he called to one of the many servants bustling through the halls. I looked around wide eyed, unsure of what to think. the room was small but nothing of what i would ever have expected when I had been hauled off with the others like chattle. It was a well appointed room despite its size. A large bed filled most of it, covered in dark blue silk puffed up with down. Matching pillows adorned it, threaded with gold. The table and wardrobe were simply made, but well crafted and a small trunk gleamed at the foot of the bed. A plush navy blue chair next to the table and a thick wool rug on the floor completed the room's accents. Blue tinged light streamed through the one window set into the cold stone wall - a light i knew would not recede at night thanks to Northrend's location, and was glad to note the heavy curtain draped next to it from the wall.

the thing that bothered me was what i was doing here. it seemed that this was meant to be my new room, but at what price? i could only imagine that i was to be left here to the whims of the lich king and i shivered at the thought.

while i had been surveying the small space, a basin had been carried in by two of the servants Gahrfas had alerted. I didn't notice however until i felt rough hands working through the laces at the back of my linen gown. I tried to turn away, to escape the grasp, but was powerless against the strength of the death knight. Completely divested of every stitch of clothing and trying futilely to cover myself in the frigid bite of the air, I glared at Gahrfas.

Gahrfas for his part, was taking his time, looking over my exposed flesh lecherously first before lifting me. he dropped me unceremoniously in the oversized basin, the ice cold water numbing me to the bone. I jumped back up almost immediately only to be pushed back into a sit by Gahrfas.

"not until you're clean"

so I sat there, scrubbing my skin with the hard chunk of soap i had been offered, all the while staring a hole into the wall across from me unwilling to make eye contact. The servants were still present, and both male, a fact that did not go unnoticed by me. Finally when i had finished one of these men handed me a swath of rough wool that i gathered was meant for me to dry with. It seemed unsuitable for the task, as thick as it was and likely to stink with mildew if left in a cold place like this but i took it anyway, glad to have something to cover myself with.

Gahrfas had gone over to the wardrobe, which was apparently already filled with gowns. I wondered whom they and the room had belonged to before, and what had happened to her. Nothing good, i was sure.

I started when a green tangle of cloth landed squarely in my face and pulled it back, to reveal a green dyed linen gown that would hardly provide warmth or decency on a deserted island off of sun soaked Durotar.

He turned to leave, not waiting to watch me change at least, the two servants trailing him. He paused at the door and turned, appraising me again, so that i became instantly self conscious of my uncombed hair.

"And make yourself look..." he paused as though floundering for a word that would be within my ability to obtain. He gestured wildly with one hand as he thought, and it reminded me of one of the young men i had known in Lakeshire, no doubt captured and sent to work in the farms, if not dead awaiting revival as a death knight. I shuddered.

Gahrfas squinted at me, and with a sigh of hopeless exasperation settled on "presentable".


	2. Chapter 2

There was a loud knock at the door, and it seemed to shake the entire room. I had no intention of answering, preferring rather to pretend that I wasnt there, but it was no use. the lich king had no intention of waiting for a reply, which was obvious when the door swung open only seconds after that final rap. If possible, he was even more menacing now, standing in the small door frame like that. It had seemed a reasonably sized door before, but now it was completely dwarfed.

I couldnt help but notice that he had abandoned his armor from earlier, dressed now in the simple linen shirt and pants I would have expected on any of the men from Lakeshire. Such casualness may have seemed reassuring on someone else, but on him it was like a mockery, a corruption of everything good and simple and _living_. I hoped he would just stand in the doorway forever, or better yet turn and leave. Maybe he would find me completely unsuitable as those pale glowing eyes assessed me. But I had no such luck. He shifted his weight and entered the room, the heavy oak door swinging home behind him. He moved with a grace that should have been unknown to a man his size, his silvered hair hanging in his face. He peered through the strands, sizing up his prey.

I moved instinctively backwards, inopportunely trapping myself against the bed as he approached. I could feel the silk fabric beneath my fingers, heard the sound of movements, the running of a palace, outside of this small room, smelled him as he got closer: death and fear and pain. He carried it with him like a shroud.

The hunger in his eyes burned like a fire, for certain the only living part of him and

even that was debatable. I no longer could put any more space between us without finding myself prostrate on the bed and I hurried in an attempt to scramble backwards to the other side and imagined safety. But a large hand reached out grasping me above the knee, preventing my retreat.

I had known men to claim that fear had a taste and I had never been one to believe them until now. His left hand moved to mirror the right, so I was securely pinned to the bed, unable to move at all as he continued. It took all of my strength to look into those bright eyes of his, alight as they were with destruction and hatred. I could make no sense of the dark chaos there and wanted no part of it, turning my face

away from his, resigning myself to stare motionless at the blank wall until he left.

He took that movement as an invitation and I felt ice touch my skin as his mouth closed over the pulse at the side of my throat. My sharp intake of breath at the intrusion only seemed to push him on.

He braced a knee at the edge of the bed, leaning his body towards mine and I felt his hand ride up my right thigh under the linen skirt. I was detached and yet somehow remained acutely aware of what was happening. It was like my mind was trapped in a paralyzed body, allowing me to do nothing but observe, never act. And then it was his body, his chest pinning me to the bed, his hands free to roam my skin at his leisure. His knee was planted firmly between my thighs, forcing them apart as he pulled the skimpy garment up and over my head. I was hardly breathing, afraid of what would come next.

When the death knights had first pounded down the hill to lakeshire, all I had thought of was death. And when Gahrfas had claimed me as his own slave, it had been too soon. The knowledge hadn't set in yet of what my fate truly meant. It had been different. Different from this. This was the first time rape had even entered my mind.

I was completely naked but for the scrap cloth of my panties. I was pinned close to the bed, the lich king's giant form looming over me, holding me still. There was no where for me to go. Nothing for me to do. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream, at the top of my lungs. I opened my mouth to do just that, but no sound came out. He had covered my mouth with his own, his tongue forcing its way in to explore. Silent tears ran down my face as I felt him shift to remove his shirt, keeping me expertly beneath him, still silenced by his probing tongue.

He slowed then, some of the fervor gone. I frowned in confusion as his kiss became gentler, so lost in confused thought I almost didn't notice him remove my last remaining stitch of clothing, or as he threw his own pants to the ground as well. I tried to shy away from him and he became firm again, almost rough as he pressed me down into the bed. I tried to cry out, the sound lost into his mouth. He shifted and I waited, knowing what was coming next. His hands trailed down my sides from my arms, resting on my hips, his grip strong but stroking, urging me towards him. And then he pushed himself all the way in and I cried out again into his mouth as fresh tears welled in my closed eyes and trailed down my cheeks.

I had had a man before. Only one. Carn. He lived in Lakeshire, born and raised, all of 19 years now. He was probably somewhere in Northrend too. Probably in the castle while this was happening. I had loved him, and I cried now for him, for myself, for the fact that I hadn't seen him before being hauled off here, that i hadn't been able to say goodbye, that I would now be ruined forever. I knew i would likely never see him again. He was strong, a fighter. he would make a good death knight and knowing that, knowing what would happen to him only made me cry harder.

They were silent tears now, and the lich king's mouth had trailed down, back to my throat. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my tear stained face like a dead mask as he thrust and thrust again, again, again. His movements were hard, but his hands were gentle as they kneaded my skin, caressed my sides, found my breasts, clutched my hips. It was like some sort of sacrilege, this gentleness. It made me feel dirty, used. I just wanted it to stop. Wanted to curl into a ball and disappear.

He quickened his pace then, and I balled my hands in the sheets, waiting for this to be over. He moaned into my neck as he came, one hand centered on my back, holding me to him, the other staying my leg firmly around his hip as he thrust deep that one last time. i felt like a rag doll and i was. just a doll. just a plaything and it made me feel sick inside that this was what i would become.

i tried not to look at him and choked back my tears. he was caressing my face, considering me with a cocky smirk plastered on his face. he said nothing, just stood up then. redressed himself as i lay there and left, the door shutting soundly behind him. I turned on my side, and tucking my head to my knees, I proceeded to cry myself to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning there was a ghostly woman in my room, standing over my bed. I nearly shrieked at the unnatural intrusion. Her name was Elena, as I soon learned after getting over my shock. She was a servant in the palace, currently assigned to me as well as others. She had brought me new clothing for which I was appreciative, though when I looked at the "dress" she had laid out on my bed, I shivered at the prospect of wearing it around these cold halls.

Finally dressed, I was led from my room by Elena to another down the hall. On the other side of the bare wooden door was like a whole other world. Unlike the cold, dungeon-like hallways, this room was bathed in color and light. Drapes and curtains of every color hung from the ceiling. Plush couches and full cushions were placed throughout the room. There was so much to take in I almost missed the four women seated near the center of it all.

They were like me. Or at least, they served the same function as I was to serve. And I was welcomed with open arms by these women, these "playthings" of the Lich King. Over the course of the afternoon, it seemed I learned all there was to know about these four women. Gorra was the remarkably feminine orc lounging on a chaise. Green skin, smooth over high cheekbones and red eyes that seemed to glimmer in the light of the room. Sitting on a cushion on the floor was Alliara. She was a night elf with slanted dusky grey eyes. And she was so tall. When she stood to shake my hand I was amazed at her grace. She moved like a dancer. The slight woman sitting next to her was Kaira. She had the delicate features of a blood. Her sleek black hair was cut at her chin, framing her face perfectly. These women were absolutely gorgeous and I couldn't understand how I could ever begin fit in among their ranks.

But the most startlingly beautiful woman was the only other human there. I wouldn't have thought that a mere human would be able to compete with the exotic beauties in the room, but Vanessa had the face of a goddess. Her hair was a shimmering gold that fell around her shoulders in silky waves. I touched my own dark brown hair, not for the first time feeling my features were dull and boring.

Vanessa was self proclaimed "queen" of this little group. She was the Lich King's favorite and she seemed unabashed in lording it over the other women. I couldn't imagine what benefits could be so great to endure the four nights a week the Lich King visited her.

She took more interest in me than the other women, giving me a rundown of the how things worked in the castle as we walked the halls for hours. She carried herself like royalty and I wondered if she had been a noble before finding herself here. I had already discovered that no one liked to talk of their lives before abduction - too much pain - so I didn't ask. She wore gold around her wrist and at her ears, symbols of her elevated status among the women and gifts, she bragged, from the Lich King himself. I admired them for her benefit, though I would easily pass on such gifts if it meant avoiding the monster himself. I did however envy her the fur cloak she had, tied around her shoulders, as I shivered yet again in my thin linen dress.

By the time we were back with the other women in their - our - sanctuary, I had learned more about Vanessa than I did of the palace and it made me wary of her. She told me about the woman who had held my place before me. She had been gaining favor with the Lich King just before her mysterious death, and the look of victory that flashed across Vanessa's face made me wonder if she didn't have something to do with it. It wasn't the attention she desired, because the smile on her face when she spoke about her success was too broad to be believable and her eyes seemed always tired. But the trappings it had secured her, her position of power - even if it was only among slaves - meant enough to her that I wouldn't put so drastic a measure past her. Yet another reason for me to pray that the Lich King would take no further interest in me.

Elena was waiting for me when we returned, looking nervous as she wrung her transparent hands. She rushed to me as we entered the room, the other women hurrying to my side as well. All of a sudden I was feeling claustrophobic and overwhelmed as they all started talking at once.

"Where have you been? I've been looking for you! _He's_ been looking for you!"

My breath hitched in my throat and I had to remind myself to breath as panic took over my body. This was too soon. I wasn't ready for this. I just wanted to go back to my room and cry myself to sleep, alone. I had been trying to convince myself that this had all been a bad dream, but that was becoming increasingly difficult to believe.

"Don't worry," Naira urged, "it'll be quick and then it's over."

"Yeah, in and out and he's done," Gorra added with a chuckle that drew peals of laughter from the other women.

I didn't join in. I was too upset to find humor in my situation. I hadn't resigned myself to my fate there yet as they had. I left amidst their continued encouragements, following Elena down the hall as though I were walking to my own execution.


	4. Chapter 4

He was already in my room when I got there, standing at the window looking out at the ice covered landscape. I stood there as the door closed behind me, my legs like stone, rooted to the spot. I cleared my throat, waiting for him to notice me, but dreading that very moment. He turned, the sound of metal scraping stone echoing as his gloved hand brushed against the sill. He was still wearing his armor. His helmet was lying so carelessly askew on the table and I was mesmerized by the picture it made. Such a feared mask so casually cast aside.

"Help me with the straps," his voice grated as he strode towards me, removing his gloves and tossing them aside.

I nodded and moved to meet him, reaching for the buckles on his pauldrons. I had to stand on tiptoe and even then I could barely see what I was doing, a fact that, based on his chuckle, the Lich King seemed to find amusing. I tried not to flinch as I felt his ungloved hand gripped my waist. His touch was too strong to be comfortable but I tried not to shake as I continued to work on the straps that were almost out of reach.

I made the mistake of meeting his gaze while I worked. He was studying me, a look in his eyes that melded anger with something else I couldn't identify. But the result was terrifying and I glued by eyes to the floor as I place his second pauldron on the wooden floor.

I got the feeling that there was a game being played here that I didn't know the rules of. It was like a cat batting at a mouse while readying for the kill and I was the mouse. I could still feel his eyes on me, that faint glow that made me so uneasy. When he was standing in just his shirt and pants I stepped back and out of his grasp. He was still wearing his boots and I gestured to them, but he didn't seem to notice. I cleared my throat again to get his attention.

"Your boots," I started, gesturing again.

He grunted in response as he moved to the large armchair in the corner. I couldn't help but notice that the chair seemed to be made for him and it made me even more uncomfortable as I realized it had been. This may have been my room for now, but it was meant for his use, along with everything within it. And that included me.

Both boots tossed aside he motioned for me to come to him and I hesitantly obliged, stopping directly in front of him.

"Closer," he grunted, leaning back.

I was as close as I could get now, my knees brushing the edge of the seat, trapped between his legs. Even seated he towered over me. I was overwhelmed, standing so close to this monster and I could taste terror at the back of my throat. And then I let my eyes take in the state of his shirt. I was momentarily distracted from my situation and I wrinkled my nose when I realized his shirt was soaked through with sweat.

"What?" he asked, his voice gruff.

"You're soaked," I replied, without thinking, and touched the edge of one sleeve.

It was then that I remembered where I was, who was seated in front of me, and my eyes grew wide. Why had I been so familiar with him? But then he threw his head back and let out what seemed to be a genuine laugh. Somehow that reaction made me more uneasy than any other could have. Maybe it was that eery glow in his eyes or the calculation I saw, that seemed to always be there.

He pulled the offending shirt over his head and sized me up again, like a predator eyeing its prey.

"Is that better?" he asked, a smirk on his face.

I nodded, because there was no other response I could give.

And then he reached out and snaked an arm around my waist, pulling me up and onto his lap. I tried to stay strong, not show my fear. I wouldn't give him that satisfaction, it would only urge him to push me further. If my first encounter with him was any indication, the Lich King enjoyed getting what he wanted at the expense of others.

The next day was spent in the company of the other women again. When the door closed behind me I flung myself onto the nearest couch, feeling safe in this haven. Vanessa sensed the uneasiness in me and hurried to my side.

"What is it dear?" her voice dripping with honeyed concern.

I just looked at her, trying desperately to convey a whole range of emotions without having to speak the words that I so wanted to avoid. Last night had been terribly unexpected. I hadn't been prepared for that smirking face or the familiarity he assumed. I thought for sure the mind games of this place and its king would be the end of me.

"Oh, he's playing games again isn't he?" Vanessa said, with a curse muttered under her breath.

I had never seen her so openly angered and I hoped it wasn't directed at me.

"It's because you're new dear," she said, a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

"What's the matter?" Naira asked, joining us.

"The Lich King has decided to _play_ with his new toy," Vanessa said with poorly veiled venom.

I'm sure I looked stricken, if not only for the events of the previous night but my fear of Vanessa as well.

"Oh Tenna," Naira intoned, "Don't worry, it will pass."

Vanessa nodded vigorously.

"He's a child with a new plaything..." Vanessa looked like she was going to say more, but wasn't sure how to continue.

At least I could see now that her anger was not directed at me, but at the object of out discussion himself. Finally Vanessa sighed.

"Well there's no easy way to put this dear," Vanessa said. "He's the type who likes to break his toys. So be careful."

I blanched, and found myself surrounded by the women who were trying to ease my mind with words of encouragement. It wasn't working. It was hardly a delicate way to put it, but I supposed Vanessa was right. There wasn't one.


End file.
